Sweet Days of Summer
by Lady Lithe
Summary: Can you fall in love and not realize it? ...A prequel to A Matchless Match, but it's not necessary to read it for this. Might be for the sequel though!
1. Chapter 1: Dirty Laundry

Sweet Days of Summer

By: Lady Lithe

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Summery: It's the summer before Harry Potter goes off to Hogwarts for his sixth year. Friendship is blooming in the air...and maybe something more? Well flowers are blooming for sure because he just can't stop smelling them! Now if only he could find one around the Burrow... (A pre-quel to A Matchless Match, but it's not necessary to read it for this.)

Can you fall in love and not realize it?

Naru-chan: Okay, so I promised you guys I'd write more of something in this world. Well, I find that I like this world a lot. So, I've decided to give you three wonderful gifts. A pre-quel and two sequels. You'll see. This is the pre-quel, full of fluff and romance, believe me, and while you don't have to read AMM beforehand, it'll be handy to understand jokes I'm going to put in the sequels! So...pay attention? And never forget to sit back, relax, and let me bring you into a world of Harry that we never get to see in the books. ;)

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Chapter One: Dirty Laundry

_Oh sweet days of summer, the jasmine's in bloom  
July is dressed up and playing her tune  
And when I come home from a hard day's work_  
_And you're waiting there; yes you're waiting there  
Without a care in the world.__  
-Jason Mraz, __Summer Breeze_

Harry Potter was soaring through the clear blue sky, his hands easily guiding his Firebolt through the air. There were the tops of evergreen trees and mountains in the distance as far as his eyes could see. The clouds floated gently around him. His unruly black hair rippled against his face as his emerald eyes leisurely scanned his setting. And then he saw it – the unmistakable glint of gold, and he was speeding up, going faster and faster, feeling his heart ram excitedly against his chest, adrenaline pounding against his ears, he was reaching out, extending his hand, the golden Snitch barely and inch away from his nimble fingers, and just as they wrapped around the small ball, a blast of the scent of flowers invaded his brain and –

**BAM!**

He let out a moan as his side flooded with pain, rolled over slightly onto his back, and clutched his throbbing ribs. The impact against the floor hadn't exactly been kind. He opened his still sleep-filled eyes, only to see spots of various bright colors dance in front of him. Then a blurry face with crimson hair framing it came into view. Two brown smudges blinked at him with interest.

"Are you all right Harry?"

He strained his eyes, registering the wry smile on her face and her lips trembling with amusement.

"Fine," he croaked, attempting to untangle himself from the blanket that currently bound his legs together, though he did not succeed. He continued to squint at her so she obligingly placed his black glasses onto his face. Her pale and pretty face then became crystal clear and he could actually see the freckles that he had known were there. She was surprisingly close to him in her kneeling position beside him.

"Have a nice dream?" Ginny Weasley asked, not even trying to hide the amusement in her voice. He pushed himself off the floor and rubbed the side of his face.

"Yeah," he said, though he didn't remember it anymore. He rubbed his neck. "Is it time for breakfast?"

"Everyone's already been up and about for a while now. Mum told me not to wake you up. Did you arrive late last night?" He watched as her thin figure rose and weaved through Ron's room expertly, dodging the miscellaneous objects strewn across the floor, her red ponytail swinging cheerfully after her. The sun was shining brightly in from the windows over her simple, pale green T-shirt and cropped jeans. She bent over and picked up the laundry basket and she glanced at him over her shoulder. "Harry?"

"Oh–sorry!" Harry answered, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks as he tore his gaze away. "Um, yeah, Dumbledore came and brought me here yesterday. It was pretty late."

It suddenly occurred to him how strange this was. Usually he and Ginny didn't talk alone. Now that he thought about it, most of the time at least Ron or Hermione were with them and that hadn't even started until the year before, his fifth year, when she got over her crush on him. This was probably why it was surprising how he wasn't the least bit annoyed or bothered by her presence – even in his disheveled state. During that time, she had actually started to talk to him and they had become almost friends by association. Idly he ran a hand through his chaotic raven hair.

"Well, I for one am glad you're here."

"You are?" he asked, looking back at her with raised eyebrows. She stood there with the white basket at her side. "Hasn't Hermione been here for a week now?"

"That's exactly the problem," she said, rolling her eyes with exasperation. "She and Ron have been blowing hot and cold nonstop! One minute they are screaming at each other, the next they won't talk to each other, and then they're throwing shy glances at each other… And of course since Fred and George no longer live here, I've been trapped in the middle of their arguments."

"Ah, so you know what it's like now," grinned Harry, propping his elbow against the bed. Ginny smiled sympathetically at him.

"Anyway, since I'm about to do the laundry do you have anything that needs to be washed?"

"Actually…" he blushed. "Maybe I should do my own laundry…"

She raised an eyebrow as her lips arched upward. "You don't need to be embarrassed, Harry, I have six older brothers. There's nothing you need to hide. And it won't be a burden since I'm doing Ron's as well."

"R-Right," he stammered. Of course he didn't need to be worried about her seeing his dirty clothes. She'd seen similar articles of clothes all her life. How silly of him, he scolded himself as he tried to get up, only to tangle himself further. Mortified beyond belief now, he jumped to his feet just as he yanked at the offending blanket. His foot slid against the cloth and he was thrust forward, slamming right into his best friend's sister. The basket of dirty clothes flew from her hands as they crashed onto the ground.

"Ow…ow, ow," she muttered underneath him. He felt sharp pain race up his arms and knees, but couldn't help but register how nice her soft body felt against his.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry Ginny!" he sputtered, shoving away the dirty shirt that had landed on his head. He wasn't quite sure if he was apologizing for causing her to fall or for thinking such atrocious thoughts. He tried quickly to push himself off her, but the cursed blanket had other ideas.

"You're so graceful, you know that?" she laughed lightly as she blew away a strand of red hair from her face. Most of her tresses had escaped from the ponytail and surrounded her now flushed face.

"Yeah," he said with relief, glad that she wasn't angry when she had the right to be furious. He himself started to laugh at this very strange predicament. "So I've been told."

"Come on, get off of me before one of my brothers walk through that door," she laughed, poking his chest. He blanched at the thought and hastily rose to his feet, the wretched blanket finally releasing him from its grip.

"I'd like to live a little longer."

"Could you hand me that shirt?" she asked as she went about the room. She threw the strewn garments accurately to back into the basket. She winced when bending over to pick up a pair of shorts and rubbed her sore back.

"Sorry again," Harry repeated guiltily as he threw the shirt that had fallen onto his head back where it had come. He quickly scrambled to gather more clothes. "How about I help you with the laundry to make it up to you?"

"Are you sure?" She looked at him with surprise. He realized then that it would mean spending more time with her. But he really didn't mind. In fact, if Hermione and Ron were acting the way that she had described them to be acting, then he would rather be with her than endure his best friends' bickering.

"Yeah," he nodded with a smile. "Besides, Ron and Hermione are probably only going to trap me in the middle as well."

"Alright then, if you insist," she said with a small smile as she headed toward the door. "Collect your unclean clothes and meet me outside, but grab a bit of breakfast on the table first if you like."

Harry stood alone in the room for a moment as he heard her descend the stairs. He gathered all of his clothes that needed washing into a bag. It was strange, he thought to himself as he shoved a pair of socks into the bag. Why was he so excited about spending time with Ginny Weasley, the little girl who used to have a crush on him? Then again, she had gotten over that a long time ago. She had even dated Michael Corner last year. And she certainly wasn't a "little girl" anymore. Her Quidditch skills had absolutely shocked all of her brothers – and admittedly Harry as well. Not to mention her Bat Boogey Hex was nothing to laugh at either. As he slung the bag over his shoulder, he thought that perhaps it wouldn't be so bad, spending time with the youngest Weasley.

He then opened the door, trotted down the stairs, and decided to grab a bite of food before he helped Ginny. He made his way into the kitchen to find a pile of toast, eggs, and bacon with a warming spell over them. He had just taken his first bite with a relish when he almost toppled from his seat as loud screams erupted just outside the door near him.

"Don't you _dare _touch my mail, Ronald!"

"I didn't touch your precious letter to Vicky, Herm-own_-ninny_!"

"Don't call either of us those things!"

"Oh, so _he_ can call you that, but _I _can't?"

"He can't pronounce my name! And for your information, _the last time I checked the letter_ – Harry, hi!" Hermione greeted him breathlessly when she opened the kitchen door with a bang. Her chestnut hair was all in disarray and her face was flushed from screaming.  
"Hi Hermione," he answered, nervously glancing over her shoulder, believing he would soon see a livid redhead.

"I heard from Mrs. Weasley that you arrived last night –" she began, but she was soon drowned out by the voice of Harry's other best friend.

"Don't think you can–!"

"_Shut up Ron_!" she cried while slamming the door shut. Harry jumped back. He wanted to protect his ears, but it was too late. Her shrill voice still rang in his ears.

"I better go now," Harry said, trying to stuff as much toast into his mouth as possible.

"Oh, right, I was just going to Ginny's room anyway," Hermione smiled apologetically as she headed toward the door where Harry had entered not so long ago.

"Don't tell me to shut up!" Ron's voice clamored over them as he entered the kitchen with a loud bang as well. The lanky freckle-faced boy, whose face was as red as maroon, stood angrily at the door.

"I can when you deserve to be shouted at! How many times do I have to tell you that Victor and I are just friends? Like you and me?" she swerved around to yell at the tall redhead behind her. This comment, however, failed to sooth Ron. In fact, he looked as if he had swallowed a toad whole.

"Y-You say friends, but you never know if he… Friends can be…" he trailed off and glared at the floor as Hermione watched him breathlessly. But a whole minute passed and nothing happened except Ron got more and more red.

"I really have to go. Ginny's outside waiting for me," said Harry, not wanting to hear this. He tried to dart around the bushy-haired girl, who now stood between him and the exit. This was extremely awkward because Ron was trying to accost her right behind him.

"Ginny?" Hermione turned to him, looking taken aback and pleased at the same time. Then her expression turned a bit perplexed.

"Er, yes, I'm helping her –"

"Ginny," she repeated slowly, her eyebrow arched.

"Yes, Ginny, so if you don't mind –"

"DON'T IGNORE ME TO FLIRT WITH YOUR _FRIEND_!" Ron demanded, not wanting to be ignored anymore.

Harry covered his ears this time.

"I AM NOT FLIRTING WITH HARRY!"

"Harry? Is that you?" Ginny's voice drifted from outside. He was never happier to hear her voice. "Hurry up! I can't wait all day!"

"Oh look at that!" Harry laughed in relief as he ducked under Hermione's angrily raised arm. "Ginny's calling!"

Ginny's voice welcomed him as he stepped into the sunlight, "Whew, you made it! I was worried they might have trapped you and started asking you to pick a side."

Her cropped jeans were rolled up so that they looked like shorts and she stood in the middle of a wide soap-filled basin. She grinned at him as she batted away a stray lock of hair that had escaped her once again loosened ponytail with her soap-covered hand.

"Thanks for the save," he said gratefully. The shouting had continued inside the Burrow and loud bangs decorated Ron and Hermione's loud voices.

"Don't worry about it. That fighting there has been happening all week. Don't say I didn't tell you," she said nonchalantly. "I believe the last fight had to do something with tomatoes…"

"Wow. Haven't their voices tired even once?"

She took a moment to think about this and then shrugged. "Nope. It's quite ridiculous. The two obviously have overly friendly feelings toward one another."

"You don't need to tell me," he said good-naturedly. "I've had to deal with it for five years now. Though this time they seemed pretty close to actually getting somewhere…"

"Anyway, roll up those trousers of yours and throw your pile over with the rest," she said, gesturing vaguely to the pile on the grass.

"You don't using a washing machine?" Harry asked with interest as he did what he was told.

Ginny paused in the middle of scrubbing a sweater to look at him curiously. "A washing what?"

"Er – " Harry smiled. "Never mind. So why don't you just use magic?"

"Silly. I would think _you _of all people would know about underage magic," she laughed as she resumed her scrubbing. She pushed away a pestering lock of hair with the back of her hand. "Then again…perhaps it's because it's you…"

"Hey!" he protested as he joined her inside the rather large basin, settling himself at the edge of the washbasin. He shoved a shirt deep into the soapy water. "I'll have you know both of those times weren't my fault!"

"Of course they weren't, Harry." She looked at him, her honey brown eyes watching him seriously. He felt his throat close up at her sincerity. It suddenly reoccurred to him that she had been on his side when he had told everyone that Voldemort had returned. And she had been there with him in the Department of Mysteries… Now she smiled in a strange way that made his chest feel hot. The sun sparkled over her shoulder, lighting up her brilliant hair into innumerous shades of red. "Anyway, we all take turns doing the laundry to make things easier for Mum since she's so busy."

"Right," he managed with a nod. He wondered to himself if this conversation was going to turn awkward…

He was proven wrong when Ginny's highly amused voice caused him to raise his head. "Oh my, Harry. Snitches?"

"What?" he instantly asked, utterly unaware of what she was referring to. Then his emerald eyes widened in horror and the shirt slipped from his wet hands as he watched Ginny wave his favorite pair of boxers in the air.

"It's so cute, Harry," she said, struggling to keep from bursting out with laughter.

"G-Give that back!" he cried, attempting to grab the article of clothing away from her. His face was so hot that it could put an embarrassed Ron to shame. Ginny, however, appeared to have other ideas as she hid it behind her back.

"Snitches! How original!" she beamed at him. "Harry Potter, the famous youngest Seeker in the century! I would never have guessed!"

"Oh yeah?" he dove his hand into the pile next to him before he found what he was looking for. Though…it wasn't exactly what he was looking for. His face, if possible, turned even redder. "Lace?"

"Hey!" she screamed as he dangled a pair of emerald kickers adorned with gold lace in front of her. Since when, he couldn't help but wonder, did she wear such things? He quickly tried to banish the image of her wearing it from his head in alarm. Suddenly she had a wicked glint in her eye. "Oh yeah? Fine, let's trade. You can keep those and I'll keep these!"

"No way!" Harry cried in horror. "Girls can wear boxers but blokes can't wear – can't wear…"

He gestured to her kickers.

"But the green matches your eyes," she said cheekily. She safely stashed his boxers behind her, beyond his reach.

"Ginny," he moaned. He never thought that such an event as this would ever happen. "Those are my favorite pair! And how do you expect me to explain to your six brothers how your knickers came into my possession?"

Her mouth twisted into half a smile and half a smirk at the same time. It was fascinating. How did she do that and come off as so charming without really trying?

"If I give them back to you, what will I get in return?"

"What do you want?" A smile tugged at his lips. He couldn't help it.

"I want…" her eyes slowly trailed up from his torso…slowly traveling to his eyes. He swallowed hard and if the shirt he had been washing had still been in his hands, it would have surely slipped away from his fingers a second time. Her eyes held his gaze until her lips began to move again and caused his eyes to flicker over them. "I want a jumper."

He blinked. "What?"

She smiled as she reached over and grabbed a pair of shorts to wash. "I want a jumper of yours."

"But – well, which one?" he frowned as he finished scrubbing the T-shirt he had abandoned.

"Your green one," she said simply.

"The one…" he frowned as he tried to mentally place this jumper. "My green one? Well…I really did like that one, but I suppose it's fine for you to have."

"Really?" Her face lit up with such delight that he had the sudden urge to offer her the rest of his jumpers.

"Sure," he agreed. "It's a bit tight on me now anyways. But you better hand my boxers over."

She stuck her tongue out at him defiantly, but tossed the garment at him and he yelped when it hit him square in the face. He looked at her, a mischievous spark in his own emerald eyes. He seized a handful of soapsuds and flung it at her. She let out a cry of laughter as she was splattered with it. In retaliation, she tossed the soaking pair of shorts at him, splattering him with water and soap. He kicked water at her, splashing her with water. She captured some bubbles in her hand and blew it at him playfully. He found this bubble experience much more fun than the last time he was with a girl (though she was deceased) and bubbles. Soon the two of them were both a dripping mess.

"I think," he gasped between laughs as he squeezed his shirt in attempt to rid it of all the water it had absorbed, "we should stop."

"Oh dear," she giggled. She pointed to his glasses. "You have a little something…"

"Ha ha, Ginny," he said dryly. His glasses were completely wet and even had several bubbles attached to it.

"Here, let me get that for you," she said as she carefully removed his glasses from his face. He felt her cool, yet warm hands brush his face, and it left a slight tingle. She then proceeded to dry the glasses off on the only dry part of her shirt. She offered it back to him and he took it with a timid smile.

"Thanks." Then he watched as she pushed away her bangs from her face once again. He reached over and tucked the defiant tendril behind her ear. Then his fingers jerked back and he quickly rubbed his hands over his trousers. It had seemed like a perfectly normal thing to do at the time.

"Thanks," she said almost shyly.

"N-No problem," he said, clearing his throat.

"Well…" she said, placing her hands on her hips as she observed their environment.

"We didn't manage to get much done, did we…?" Harry winced, feeling rather guilty that he had distracted her so much from her chores. He had intended to help her, not _delay_ her.

"I have an idea!" she claimed. She unexpectedly grabbed a bunch of clothes and heaved it into the basin.

"What are you doing?" he asked as she poured more soap and water into the tub.

"Watch," she told him with a coy smile before she jumped into the basin. She began stomping on the clothes. "Come on! I'm sure this way is much faster."

Before he knew it, he had joined her and the two of them were jumping away with great abandon. It didn't even matter that the water splashed against their legs because they were already wet. Then they hung the clothes up on lines. She taught him how to clip the clothes onto the wire lines so that they managed to stay put, for his first attempt has only resulted in him rewashing a pair of socks.

"You sure do know how to get things done properly," he complimented her. "I'm sure you'll make a great wife someday."

"Ha," she said, her cheeks a slight pink. "Well I can't cook. Nearly burned down the Burrow before, I did."

"I can cook rather decently," he commented as he clipped up Ron's black robes. "I was forced, after all, to cook for the Dursleys for years."

For some reason, he didn't find it strange to be talking to her about his past. He usually refrained from speaking about it because he hated when others pitied him. Yet he somehow knew she wouldn't.

"Then we'd make a pretty good pair, don't you think?" she joked. He smiled, glad that she didn't press further with the Dursley issue.

"Yeah," Harry shot back. "I can see it now. The two of us, old and withered, and you'd wake me up each morning with a prod of your cane, croaking, 'Harry! Make me a sandwich!'"

He enjoyed her laughter floating in the air.

"And I'd steal your Snitch-clad boxers again and again."

"And I'd buy you even more lacy knickers in hopes that you'll finally give up on pilfering my precious underwear. I'll even get you several with some Snitches of your own."

"That won't sway me, Potter."

"By the way, you better not mention what type of underwear I own to anybody…"

"Shoot, thanks for the reminder, Harry! I better send those pictures to your official fan club."

"My what?" he cried out in disgust.

She came into view as she leaned back into the aisle he was busy working on. "You know I should really steal your boxers and sell them to one of your rabid fans. I'd make a fortune."

"You wouldn't," he smiled warningly.

"Whatever you say," she winked at him.

He then leapt forward toward her, just as she dashed away. Their cries rang in the air as they chased one another around the billowing clothes. He closed in on her, her hair dancing with reckless abandon since it finally fully escaped from her ponytail. He grabbed her small body as she shook with fits of laughter.

"Let go!" she gasped.

"Say you won't tell anyone!" His fingers almost naturally found her sides and tickled her mercilessly, causing her to twist and turn against his firm grip as she continued to laugh until tears streamed down her rosy face.

"Oh yeah?" Her fingers lunged to the sides of his ribs and tickled him in retaliation.

After a few minutes of this tickling war, the two of them collapsed onto the grass, panting heavily. He enjoyed the warm rays of the sun as it beat against his now mostly dry body. Their arms were spread out around them. He closed his eyes and relished the moment. The sun felt so nice on his skin… He turned his head toward Ginny and opened his emerald eyes leisurely. He smiled at her state that paralleled his a few moments ago. Vaguely, he noticed that their hands were awfully close to one another's.

And the swelling in his heart grew. Today, for the first time in a very, very long time, he had been able to be carefree. He did simply, mundane things without causing everyone to divert their attention to him. This was the first day he had left the wretched Dursley house and for once really felt that it was summer. And best of all…he felt that he was making another rare ordinary friendship. Where he could be _just _Harry. Yet it was odd because he didn't _exactly_ feel this way with Ron or Hermione and he had been their best friends since his first year. It just felt a little bit different. This new friendship…was turning out to be special.

"Thank you for today, Ginny," he said.

"What do you mean?" she asked, forging ignorance. Her fingers twitched almost invisibly.

He smiled gratefully, though she wasn't looking at him. Slowly he extended a finger. "Nothing. Just…thanks."

There was a short pause before their fingers softly touched.

"You're welcome."

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Naru-chan: Ah, friendship. Ha ha ha! ) I hope you liked it. There's more to come. So now I will ask for you to please leave a review so that I know to continue. Thanks! 


	2. Chapter 2: In Sickness and In Health

Sweet Days of Summer

By: Lady Lithe

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Naru-chan: Hello! Summer is almost here! I'M SO READY! Are you? Heh... Anyway, I really liked writing this chapter. I hope you like it too. It's one of my favorites.

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Chapter Two: In Sickness and In Health

_You can't start a fire without a spark  
But there's something that I guarantee  
You can't hide when infection starts  
Because love is a social disease.  
-Bon Jovi_

The sound that escaped from his mouth could only be described as noise. If one did try, however, to describe it, one might say it rather resembled gargling. Blinking required an astonishing amount of effort, and Harry could vaguely tell that a redhead was looking down at him with a look of inexpressible pity.

"How you feeling, mate?" Ron asked.

"Lishat," Harry uttered. He didn't even have the strength to sound gall. He felt his nose tickle and raised his hands. "A…Ah…_Achoo_!"

His head jerked violently, but he managed to cover his face in time. He looked at his hands with disgust.

"Mmm," Ron said sympathetically as he handed his best friend several tissues.

"Han qu," Harry muttered as he cleaned his hands and handed the tissue back to Ron.

"Er – no problem," Ron replied with one raised eyebrow before he hastily threw it away and rubbed his hands nervously against another cloth.

"Hoz inn…?" Harry asked, shifting slightly in his bed. He couldn't seem to get comfortable at all. The blanket burned against his heated skin, but without the blanket the chilly air made him shudder.

"Come again?" Ron's expression turned mystified.

"Ho–ez Ginn?" he repeated slowly with labored effort.

"Ginny? She's just as sick as you." Ron shook his head in disbelief. "You two should have known better than to stay in wet clothes for so long."

"Gonuty," Harry protested weakly.

"Yes, yes," Ron consented. "Get some rest now, okay?"

"Mnfay…"

Harry gratefully closed his weary emerald eyes as he hazily heard Ron leave the room. He felt _horrible, _and that was an understatement. But the one good thing about this illness was the quiet. Ron and Hermione had ceased their bickering because Mrs. Weasley wouldn't stand for it when Harry and Ginny were sick. The potion Mrs. Weasley had given him was beginning to work, and he blurrily wondered if the potion served like a Muggle pill. Like Tylenol. Whenever he used to get sick at the Dursleys', they would shove him back into his cupboard, terrified that his illness would contaminate them – as if _his _cold could do more damage than a normal cold. He would have to pick the locks through his fever and sneak to the kitchen cupboard as noiselessly as possible in hopes of finding any medicine. Once he failed to do so and he wasn't even granted food that day. Needless to say, he didn't get well quickly. But this. This was different…He did feel awful that he was sick, but in a way it wasn't so bad… The extra cot in Ron's room was comfortable (at least considerably softer compared to the cupboard) and he didn't exactly mind Mrs. Weasley's fussing. It was…rather nice…

"_ACHOO_!" he sneezed with such force that it felt as if he had just sneezed some of his brain away. He sure felt as if he couldn't think properly. He sniffed loudly and his hand feebly searched his bedside table for a tissue. His fingers found what they had been looking for, and he blew his nose loudly before throwing the soiled balled tissue onto the pile of other used tissues. He rubbed his stuffy red nose with irritation. He took it back. Being sick was terrible.

The thoughts in his mind swam uncontrollably. Perhaps he and Ginny should have changed their clothes after their little water fight…but it hadn't seemed like it would do any harm if they kept them on at the time. In fact, it almost seemed like a good idea to leave them as they were…! After all, Ginny hadn't been complaining. And he certainly had not been either. He could still picture her: her pale shirt plastered to her damp skin…her long hair that had turned almost burgundy because it was wet – and how the tips of her tresses curled toward her body naturally…and how the drops of clear water trickled down her pale skin…

Absently he pressed his sweaty hand against his face. His forehead felt feverishly hot, even to his own already burning hands. He licked his dry lips with what little moisture was left in his parched mouth. He pressed his flushed cheeks against his pillow in hopes of soothing his blazing skin. He considered moving in yet another attempt to get comfortable, but thought perhaps it was better to just lay still.

While his body didn't move, his mind continued to reel madly. Several faded images flashed in his mind…floating books…singing toads…talking hats…before he found himself in Hogwarts again, wearing his old green dress robes. He was dancing now, surrounded by a pale white mist that seemed to have a mysterious luster. It was the Yule Ball all over again he realized as he saw the silver decorated walls and artificially falling snow above him, except this time Cho was in his arms rather than Parvati. Her black hair lightly swayed against his hands on her slim waist and she was looking up at him with her wide, blue eyes. She was beautiful in her silver dress. She sighed happily and rested her head against his chest. He shifted uneasily.

"This is so perfect, Harry," she murmured.

His brows knitted as he tried to think of something to say. This had undoubtedly been his most fervent wish in his fourth year but the strange thing was that he wasn't the least bit happy now that it had come true. Being here reminded him of how their relationship had fallen apart a few months ago. In fact he felt uncomfortable and was earnestly looking about, in hope of seeing something…but what? Futilely, he searched the crowd of glittering and swirling people with chagrin.

"Harry?" Cho's voice said, sounding far away. It echoed around him. "Harry…Harry…Harry…?"

He was floating through darkness now, her voice still resounding in his ears. He slowly landed on his feet and looked about him. He was surrounded by blackness, but it seemed as if there was spotlight on him. Then, as if someone had flipped a switch, another spotlight turned on.

There, in the center of the white light sat a considerably large black dog. His eyes calmly observed Harry as his tail wagged ever so slightly. Harry felt the emotion well up inside him at the familiar animal.

"Sirius…"

The dog seemed to smile sadly at him before it twitched, as if hearing something. Then it stood, turned, and began to run the opposite direction of Harry. A sharp stab of panic pierced through him. His legs moved before he thought of moving them. They raced after his beloved godfather, but with each step they seemed to gain more weight. Desperately, he pushed onward.

"Sirius!" Harry screamed, sweat pouring down his face. The dog turned to glance back at him. "Sirius, don't go!"

Just as he reached the dog and extended his arms to hold it, it morphed and Harry smelled the familiar scent of sweet flowers as white arms embraced him. Red hair danced around him and caressed his skin. He closed his eyes and hung on. For one moment, he felt peace. When he opened them again, seconds later, he saw a small smile before he was suddenly only holding small flower petals that dispersed around him.

"No…no, _no_!" he cried as his hands unsuccessfully tried to catch the scattering petals.

Harry woke up with a jolt, hardly being able to gasp for precious air. His chest was tightly constricted, as if there was a force pulsing painfully inside him. Terrified, his hands clawed at the blankets around him as he struggled to take in several mouthfuls of air. Finally, after what seemed like hours, his breathing steadied and the pressure loosened its hold on him. He collapsed in a shaking and sweaty mess on the bed.

His eyes took a moment to adjust to the dark blue room. He had, it seemed, fallen asleep for quite some time… Unsteadily, he ran his hand over his black hair, feeling his lightening-bolt shaped scar. What a very odd dream… He let out a long breath in hopes of soothing his nerves. He nearly jumped out of bed when he heard soft moaning beside him.

His reflexes, even in this sick state, caused him to turn toward the sound and automatically search for his wand, but his movements screeched to a halt and he inhaled sharply at the sight he saw. In Ron's bed was a small, curled figure. Long, crimson hair curled around a pale face, which glistened with beads of sweat. Her teeth chattered against each other and her hands clasped and unclasped themselves as she shivered. He then realized that her body was exposed to the cold air since her red covers had slipped to the floor.

Not knowing what he was doing, Harry stumbled out of his cot to Ginny with his blanket around his shoulders. Fumbling, he lifted the red blanket from the floor and covered her shaking body. When his fingers graced her arm, however, she began to violently jerk and her breath came in fast, large gasps. He was so alarmed that his vision blurred. Forcing his mind to focus, he tried to remember what was the right thing to do in a situation like this. The downfall from trying to focus was that his mind rebelled and did the exact opposite. The only images that swam about in his aching head looked like a banana and a pineapple…dancing…? Meanwhile his hands took a mind of their own and turned her over onto her back before one pressed against her damp forehead. She was burning up, perhaps even more than he was. Not that he knew how hot he was…

"Shh," he half whispered, half muttered to her as he slipped to his knees. If he wasn't in such a state of mind, he might have thought of calling for Mr. or Mrs. Weasley. As it was, he couldn't think of doing such a thing. The banana had turned into a dog and the pineapple was still dancing, but the dog bit the head off of the pineapple. Fuzzily, he reached under her covers and took her cold and sweaty hand into his. She was still shaking.

"Isn ka, Ginn." He sniffed hard and took a deep breath, trying to clear his head. "I'm here."

Gradually her breathing slowed to a steadier tempo and the shivering ceased. Harry smiled woozily and pressed their joint hands against his hot forehead, feeling his head begin to whirl again as his vision slipped back into the darkness. He rose to totter his way back to his bed but Ginny's hand suddenly tightened on his and she let out a small moan of objection.

The dark room was positively spiraling now with various bright colors so he did the only thing he could manage to. He numbly tumbled onto the bed next to Ginny. Their bodies faced one another unknowingly, and their warm hands held firm underneath the covers. One last thought trailed through his ailing head before he drifted once again to a more peaceful sleep.

Being sick really wasn't so bad.

* * *

Naru-chan: Your thoughts? Ha, actually, while I wrote this, I started to feel feverish myself. That's how into it I got. I have been skimming over bits and pieces of the HP books and realized that Harry really does have funny dreams. Perhaps this one means more than he knows?I also really loved writing Harry as sick. Just sick. Not hurt from battling Death Eaters or falling off his broom... He's absolutely normal and that's one of the reasons I really love this story. Harry can be normal and fall in love and, very much like him, not realize it. :) I hope you liked it.

Please review...? It might make him feel better!


	3. Chapter 3: Contemplation

Sweet Days of Summer

By: Lady Lithe

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Naru-chan: Chapter three! Was going to update sooner, but...er, computer troubles. Anyway, here you go! By the way, I'm thinking of ending this story at 5 chapters. Or 6. Just a head's up. Thanks for all the great review, guys! (This chapter was once named "The Unrealized Epiphany," but I decided to change it.) Hope you like it!

* * *

Chapter Three: Contemplation 

_I've got a hunger  
Twisting my stomach into knots  
That my tongue was tied off,  
My brain's repeating_  
"_If you've got an impulse let it out"  
But they never make it past my mouth.  
-Death Cab For Cutie, __The Sound of Settling_

Harry pushed his face further into the pillow with a sleepy frown. He could hear muffled shouting again and he wondered what on earth could send Ron and Hermione at it again. He took a deep breath and was pleasantly surprised to discover that he could, for the most part, breathe through his nose again. He let out a small sigh and was going to force himself back into his nice, serene sleep when it slowly dawned to him that he couldn't move his legs. Or his left arm. Or right hand. Hmm, this was really quite odd because when he slept he usually could do such things.

Little by little he opened one of his emerald eyes, clouded with sleep. Well, that couldn't be right, he thought. He must still be dreaming… And he would have very well closed his eye and drifted back to sleep if it hadn't been for terribly realistic scent of flowers that surrounded him.

Harry's frown deepened. This really was an odd dream, considering that it felt so authentic. When he had opened his eyes, he had seen a sleeping Ginny before him and he could have sworn that he felt someone tugging at the blanket. However, that was impossible. Why would he and Ginny be in the same bed? And…why would he be dreaming about that?

Then the memory of last night flooded his mind.

For the third time within three days, Harry jolted out of bed. Well, he tried to. Only…it was rather difficult when he was practically attached to Ginny. Their legs had tangled together; her red head was pressed comfortably against his chest; his left arm was underneath her waist and was tingling probably from lack of blood circulation. Not to mention their still entwined hands.

Her eyelashes fluttered and her eyes half opened, revealing her brown eyes. A drowsy and carefree smile graced her face before she closed her eyes. Then they snapped open, wide with confusion and shock.

"_Harry_?"

This was a very bad time to go red.

"Hi," he smiled nervously.

"Why are you…we didn't –" Her voice was filled with alarm as her eyes quickly checked to make sure they were both fully dressed.

"No!" he assured her quickly. The he flushed nervously as he recalled blacking out. "At least I don't think so. I would never…! We were terribly sick."

Ginny rose, pressing her free hand against her nightgown, making sure it was positively on. His left arm felt the blood flood through it, but it felt rather empty and a bit cold from the absence of her weight. He carefully untangled their legs and rose as well. There was a slight awkward silence in the air.

Harry was suddenly overwhelmed with horrible and ugly guilt. The Weasleys had always cared and loved him and _this _was how he repaid them? By practically taking advantage of their precious and only daughter or sister? His cheeks stained a shameful red. He could feel their enmity just from that thought.

And what about Ginny? Surely she never wanted to talk to him again… His heart clenched painfully. They had just started really to become friends too…

Anxiously, he glanced at her. At the exact same moment, she glanced at him too. It must have been his imagination, for he could have sworn that electricity rushed through his blood. Then her eyes flickered downward and his followed her gaze.

They were still holding hands.

He quickly released her left hand and rubbed the back of his neck as she held her hand in the other close to her chest.

"Sorry," he blurted out. "You probably want to know why I'm…erm, in this bed."

"Yes," she said numbly, watching him.

"You see, in the middle of the night I woke up and saw you in Ron's bed shivering because, um, your blanket fell off. So I got up and put it over you, but you were still shaking so I…took your hand," he said lamely. Now it all seemed so stupid and strange to him. Why _had _he done that? "And you know, my head was still spinning from my own fever so I made my way toward my bed, but we were still holding hands so you… I kind of collapsed onto this bed."

"Oh," Ginny said at last. He risked a glance at her, hoping this wasn't going to turn extremely awkward for the rest of the summer. To his great surprise, she began to grin. "Well, at least now I can honestly say that I've slept with Harry Potter."

He stared at her for a moment, a bit dumbstruck before a sound escaped from his mouth. "Pfft…"

Before he knew it, he was laughing uncontrollably. It was partially because of her statement, but also because of the great sense of relief he felt. It was as if ten tons had been lifted from his chest.

"_ACHOO!" _the two of them sneezed simultaneously.

"I guess we're still a little bit sick," Ginny sniffed, pulling her blanket closer to her body. He found it fascinating how the cloth pooled around her legs in red ripples.

"Do you want to sleep some more?"

She shook her head. "I'm not sleepy anymore. Are you?"

He shook his head as well.

"What should we do now?" she asked.

The sudden loud growl that emitted from Harry's stomach seemed to answer the question. "Err…"

"Shall we eat then?" she gave him a smile that soothed away his embarrassment.

"Please." Harry smiled sheepishly.

Together they trudged down the winding stairs, their blankets still wrapped around their bodies. They could hear the bustling from the kitchen. Ginny threw him an amused look before pushing the door open to reveal a redhead and a brunette. The two of them jumped at the sight of Harry and Ginny and both of them were flushed a deep, guilty hue.

"Hello! I didn't know you two were up!" squeaked Hermione in a pitch an octave higher than usual. "We…we didn't disturb you, did we?"

Ron shot her an embarrassed glare.

"Er, no," Harry mumbled, glancing from Ron to Hermione. The two of them couldn't have…it wasn't possible…

"No, actually," Ginny answered smoothly with a smile, completely ignoring their abnormal behavior. Harry, however, noticed the glint of glee in her brown eyes. "We woke up and were hungry."

"Oh good," Hermione scrambled out of her seat to the counter. "Mrs. And Mr. Weasley went to stay with the twins to see what their new life is like, but she kept food for you two in case you got hungry! Warm porridge."

"So you two have been here…alone," Harry said slowly, trying to register this information.

Ron wasn't facing Harry or Ginny, but his ears were extremely red.

"Thank you," Ginny ignored Harry's previous comment as she and Harry each took a bowl of porridge and he took the plate full of toast in his other hand. Harry made his way to sit at the kitchen table, but Ginny's body intercepted him. "We'll just…eat this in the living room."

"Oh, okay," said Hermione, but Harry caught the look of relief and gratitude she flashed toward the younger redhead. He blinked. He could have sworn that Ginny winked back.

"Let's go, Harry," Ginny said, leading Harry away toward the door. The moment the door closed behind them, she began giggling.

"What just…?" he asked in confusion.

"Oh, those two are finally going somewhere," she beamed at him as she settled on the couch and Harry took the seat next to her. She balanced the bowl of porridge on her lap perfectly as she continued to speak while he placed the plate of toast onto the small table in front of them. "Couldn't you tell? It was written all over their faces. We had to leave though, or else all the progress would have been lost. You know Ron."

"Yeah but…" Harry struggled to find the right words. "I just can't…I mean, just yesterday they were ready to tear each other's heads off! And now…well, I mean it's taken them long enough."

"You're not…" she hesitated, about to put a spoonful of porridge into her mouth. Then she smiled at him. "I'll be around."

He stared at her, stunned, as she continued to eat. Then he quickly looked away as the heat slowly crawled up his neck. How did she…? She couldn't possibly have known from his jumble of words that he was a little worried about his friendship with Ron and Hermione once the two of them became more than just friends. His green eyes trailed back to Ginny. Was he that easy to read?

Harry didn't exactly have a lot of experience with girls, except for perhaps Hermione and Cho. Hermione, however, wasn't really…a _girl _to him. He knew, of course, that she was a female (a fact that seemed to have escaped Ron for several years), but she wasn't someone who stirred weird and strange hot feelings inside him. Cho…she had done that. Yet by the end of last year, those emotions simply decayed. The thought of the raven-haired beauty no longer made him break out in sweat or nerves. Instead, there was a small emptiness and a lingering sense of dread.

But Ginny…Ginny was different. He liked to touch her hair…something he would never do to Hermione, Cho, or any other girl for that matter. She wasn't exactly another Hermione, for the two of them weren't that similar. One loved the world of books and authority, while the other would much rather go out into the world, experience those events, and defy authority. They were nice in different ways, but the feelings Harry felt for Hermione weren't like those he felt for Ginny. However, he didn't feel hot or clammy with her like he had with Cho either. In fact, he was drawn to her world. She gave him a sense of comfort that neither of the other two girls ever had…

"You better eat before it gets cold," Ginny grinned at him, handing him a slice of toast. He looked at her, a bit startled from being pulled from his reverie. He smiled a bit uneasily as he took the toast. Hopefully she couldn't read his mind. As they fell into a relaxed mood as they ate, Ginny spoke up again. "So any ideas on who will be captain of the Quidditch team this year?"

Harry winced. "I sure hope they lifted that life-time ban on me…"

"Don't worry," she said sympathetically. "I'm _sure _that they did. After all, that bat Umbridge is out of Hogwarts, you'll be on a broom faster than you can say 'Snitch.'"

"I sure hope so," he smiled.

"So you'll be Seeker, huh?" she mused to herself, taking a bite into her toast. She had dipped it into her white porridge. He looked at her with interest before trying it himself. It tasted…rather good.

"Oh…you weren't planning on trying out for Seeker were you?" He looked at her worriedly. She had, after all, taken his place as Seeker during his ban. And she was good at it, from what he heard. He didn't want any competition to ruin…whatever they had.

"Oh no," she laughed cheerfully, waving off his concern. "Being a Seeker is fun and all, but you're probably better than I am. Besides, I prefer being a Chaser. I may be small, but I'm fast and I'm accurate. The Seeker is always detached and looking for the Snitch, but I want to be in the middle of the action."

"Actually, your build really does suit a Chaser or a Seeker," Harry commented.

"So you've been checking out my build?" she asked slyly. He nearly choked on his food.

"N-No! That's not what I meant," he sputtered, his face turning red. But it was true – Ginny's petite body was lean and flexible and she also had the skill and speed that matched her build, thus making her one of the best Quidditch players on the Gryffindor team.

"Right, well," she said as she set aside her now empty bowl and plate. She stretched out her body like a cat; her back arched and her arms rose high above her scarlet hair. He found himself smiling as he too set aside his empty bowl and plate. She smiled lazily and rubbed her stomach. "That was good…!"

He wasn't sure what made him more satisfied. The meal or discovering how comfortable the redhead had become in his presence to act in this way. Then again, it still rather surprised him how relaxed he had become in her presence as well.

"Hopefully it'll be sunny tomorrow," she murmured absently, her hand still on her flat tummy.

"Oh hey, it's raining," Harry pointed out, gesturing to the window. Indeed, water was sliding down the pane. The night had fallen and they couldn't see anything beyond the falling water. He always did like the rain… But watching it, he couldn't resist yawning widely.

"Oh, are you tired?" Ginny asked, watching him closely.

"A bit," he admitted abashedly.

"Then…" she said as she rose from her seat.

"Wait--!" He instantly reached out and grabbed the sleeve of her robe. Her eyes widened as they turned toward him. Realizing what he had done, he let go immediately and felt his face get red again. His sickness sure made his face feel hot. "That is…you don't have to go."

Her rosy lips slowly curved upward into a warm smile.

"I'm not going anywhere, Harry," she assured him with a warm voice. She slid to the floor, folding her legs beneath her, as she patted the pillow she moved to where she had been sitting. "I didn't think you'd feel comfortable with lying on my lap, so you can lay down here."

"Er… Are you positive?" He wasn't sure if he should argue though. His face felt so hot that he was probably burning up with a fever. Strange though…his mind wasn't spinning like usual.

"Don't worry about me," Ginny grinned, putting him at ease. "I'll just read aloud until you fall asleep. Is that okay with you?"

"Okay," he consented meekly, gently laying his head on the soft pillow. He stared almost vacantly at her silky scarlet hair that glowed from the light reflected from the fire. He pulled his blanket closer to him and closed his green eyes. Soon her smooth voice flowed over him.

"_Because you never yet have loved me, dear,_

_Think you never can nor ever will?"_

It was strange…he could smell the familiar scent of flowers nearby…but he had been sure that there had been none in the room…

"_Surely while life remains hope lingers still,_

_Hope the last blossom of life's dying year."_

Hope…just what was hope to him? Perhaps it was the thought – the illusion of living a life one might call normal. He wanted to do ordinary things. Have ordinary parents, ordinary friends, and one ordinary person that he…

"_Because the season and mine age grow sere,_

_Shall never Spring bring forth her daffodil,"_

What was it about her voice? He couldn't place his fingers on it… It lured him, drawing him deeper and deeper into a place he had never known…

"_Shall never sweeter Summer feast her fill_

_Of roses with the nightingales they hear?"_

The rain was the only sound that surrounded her words. The soft, gentle, and steady patter sounded so sad…yet so sweet.

"_If you had loved me, I not loving you,_

_If you had urged me with the tender plea"_

That was it…her voice was like the rain. It washed away all the troubles and worries on his overburdened mind and soul…simply washed them all away.

"_Of what our unknown years to come might do_

_(Eternal years, if Time should count too few,)"_

If only…he could make time stop…and keep this moment like this…

"_I would have owned the point you pressed on me,_

_Was possible, or probable, or true."  
_

* * *

Naru-chan: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you didn't understand the poem, go ahead and tell me and I'll explain. Look forward to the next chapter soon! And the poem is "Touching Never" by Christina Rossetti.

Review? Please?


	4. Chapter 4: An Unrealized Epiphany

Sweet Days of Summer

By: Lady Lithe

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Naru-chan: I hope you enjoy this moment before the last book comes out.

* * *

Chapter Four: An Unrealized Epiphany 

_I was born to tell you I love you…  
And I am torn to do what I have to,  
To make you mine  
Stay with me tonight._

-_Secondhand Serenade, Your Call_

"It's _hotttttttttt_," Ron moaned pitifully, his face planted against the cool kitchen table. Large beads of sweat rolled down his forehead as his right hand weakly fanned his flushed cheeks.

"Gee, Ron, we didn't notice," Ginny retorted sarcastically. She was leaning back against a kitchen chair, her long legs exposed from her shorts and her hand tugging furtively at her sweaty T-shirt. Harry, who was seated in front of her, snorted with laughter. The heat, apparently, did not get along with her temperament. She flashed him a grin as she wiped away the sweat on her red face.

"Fighting won't help," Hermione said primly. Harry propped his face against his palm as he looked at the brunette, who sat beside Ron. He didn't understand how she could still concentrate on the heavy book in her hand in this heat. She was, however, wearing a T-shirt and skirt, so she wasn't totally unaffected by the weather.

"Ah, we should do something to get our minds off of the heat," Harry suggested, pulling at his sticky green shirt that clung to his skin.

"What can we do?" moaned Ron from his facedown position.

Then suddenly Ginny, Harry, and Ron looked at each other and spoke at the same time.

"Quidditch!"

"No!" Hermione said immediately, pulling her nose out of her book for once.

"Why not?" Ginny protested. "You have to play!"

"We can't play if there's only three of us." Harry had thought that Hermione was good at arithmetic too!

"I don't understand how playing a sport under the scorching hot sun will cool you down," Hermione snapped logically, shoving away several locks of bushy chestnut hair that had escaped from the tight bun she had knotted at the nape of her neck.

"But it's Quidditch," Harry reasoned. "It defies all logic."

"And I can't play very well, you all know that!" she continued, a bit desperately now under the three pleading gazes she received. "I'm terrible at flying!"

"Aw, c'mon Hermione, you're really not that bad," Ron whined, actually lifting his face from the now warm wood. "_Please_?"

Suddenly, under Ron's blue gaze, her face became even redder than before. Harry and Ginny secretly exchanged looks and laughed to themselves.

"Fine," Hermione sighed, giving in.

"Brilliant!" Ron cheered, throwing an arm over the intelligent girl. Hermione looked so red by now, Harry wondered if they needed to check her temperature to make sure she _could _play.

Quickly, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione went outside to the broom shed while Harry marched up the stairs to retrieve his FireBolt. He had planned to simply run upstairs, grab his broom, and hurry back to the others when he found himself pausing by the window. Peering through the glass pane, he realized that he was directly above his friends. He could see them clearly; Hermione and Ron were arguing once more, but Ginny stood slightly apart from the other two. Harry watched as she placed a long, olive green ribbon into her mouth. She slowly lifted her hands, collected all of her shimmering crimson hair, and carefully took the green ribbon from her lips and tied a firm knot around her hair.

And then, out of nowhere, she looked up and her brown eyes pierced his emerald gaze. For a split second, he couldn't breathe. Suddenly her lips curled into a welcoming smile and he could breathe once more. He quickly flashed her a smile of his own before rushing down the stairs.

It had been a week after that night when the two of them fell asleep on the couch. He had been lying on it, but when he had awakened, her face had been pressed against the edge of the couch, by his face. It had somehow become a habit for them to be in that position. He hadn't had another strange dream since. Still, Mrs. Weasley tended to catch them before they fell asleep and shoo them off to bed.

As he skipped the stairs, two at a time, he could barely contain the grin that grew on his face. He didn't know why exactly, but he seemed to be smiling a lot. Maybe it was the weather. He liked the sunshine almost as much as he liked the rain.

"What took you so long?" Ron asked irritably when Harry jogged toward them.

"Sorry," Harry apologized, a bit winded. "Got a little distracted."

"Let's just start, shall we?" Ginny interrupted when Ron opened his mouth. The two ends of the silky ribbon floated around her as a small, warm breeze passed. She squinted upward into the sky. "The heat's gone down a little bit and hopefully it'll stay that way for a while."

The four of them split up, with Ron and Ginny on one side, and Harry and Hermione on the other. Hermione was having a bit of trouble with her broom, and Ron hid a smile while he helped her. This was one of the few areas in which his skill exceeded hers. He wrapped his fingers over hers to show her the proper way to hold a broom, and soon her face was redder than Ron's hair. Not that she was complaining. Harry hid a smile of his own as he averted his gaze, which landed on Ginny. He watched as she easily threw one leg over her broom, and with a quick tug, she was off in the air. Her olive green ribbon whipped in the air with her hair. There was a look of sheer joy and thrill on her face that made his smile widen. She loved flying just as much, if not more, than he did, and he hadn't lied the week before about her build — she really was fast and nimble.

_And pretty_, a small voice in the back of his head whispered.

She looked down at him, her eyes grinning at him and her rosy lips twisted upward in a half smile and half smirk. She called, "What are you waiting for?"

He returned the smirk as he mounted his broom and launched into the air after her. Indeed, what was he waiting for?

The game ended three hours later, all four of them drenched in sweat. It was a good game, and neither side kept score. Since they had forced her to play, Hermione took a shower first, then Ginny, then Ron, and last Harry. Even though night had fallen, the heat persisted, and everybody refrained from moving unnecessarily. During dinner, the table was almost as loud as a street in Diagon Alley. Bill and Fleur were there (the latter much to Mrs. Weasley's, Ginny's, and Hermione's displeasure). Fred and George stopped by — they had moved out of the Burrow a month ago. Everyone seemed to be talking at once and a part of every single conversation. It was amazing, Harry realized, how easily he had become accustomed to the large family. He smiled at Ginny, who say beside him, as he accepted the plate of chicken she handed to him. He followed the conversations so naturally now.

"And so Lee said, 'Sorry, Professor, but that's not Pumpkin Juice!'" George said. The listeners burst into laughter.

"Wat, wyit," Ron swallowed the huge helping of potatoes he had in his mouth before snickering. "Tell the one about when you ambushed Malfoy and stuck him up a tree, Ginny! I've actually never heard the whole story."

"You didn't!" Harry gasped. "How come I never heard of this?"

"Well, you were a bit busy," Hermione explained. "The D.A. and all."

"Plus _Umbridge_," Ginny spat the word, jabbing her fork into her potato viciously, "the old hag —"

"Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley scolded. "Language please!"

"But she was, Mum!" Ginny groused. "She banned Harry from playing Quidditch! You should have seen the way she treated him!"

Harry swallowed hard and his fingers subconsciously traced over the words engraved into his flesh. "Don't worry about it, Ginny."

Hermione cleared her throat. "Why don't you tell what happened, Ginny? What Malfoy did that is."

"Well, the idiot as always," Ginny began, rolling her eyes, "started off by making the horrible remarks he always did. But when I ignored him because all he really wanted was to provoke me so that he could deduct more points for no apparent reason, he starts doing the _strangest _and most _disgusting_ thing ever."

"What did he do?" Harry asked, his curiosity overcoming his hunger.

"He…" she paused dramatically, thinking of the right word to say, "I'm not sure this fits – and I'm positive it's not what it sounds like, but he…in his bizarre, revolting, Malfoy-like way –"

"Anything Malfoy-like is automatically bizarre and revolting," Ron cut in.

"Yes, but what did he do?" Harry urged.

"He…" A frown formed on her face as she cautiously glanced at her brothers. "I think he _flirted _with me."

A roar of disgust erupted around the table. George and Fred both choked on their drinks while Hermione and Fleur had to physically restrain Ron and Bill from rising. Harry, however, simply stared at the redheaded girl, his mouth agape and his stomach twisting into knots. He must not have heard right. Malfoy and flirting in the same sentence? He hadn't realized that it was _possible _for Malfoy to flirt! And…and to Ginny?

The churning in his stomach was almost unbearable.

"What did the arse say?" demanded Ron, no humor in his face anymore.

"Oh, just…repulsive things as he always says," she evaded, but a smirk formed on her face. "Anyway, I put him in his place all right! Froze and tied him to a tree with invisible bonds. Looked like he was just relaxing there. Of course, he couldn't speak, so no one could help him. If I remember correctly, he was stuck up there all night and the morning after."

"Serves him right," Fred said smugly. While Harry agreed, a nagging feeling insisted that the punishment was too lax. Soon the conversation switched to another topic and everyone was being loud once again, but Harry quietly poked at his food. He had been so hungry during the afternoon, but now his appetite was completely gone.

"Ha! What about that time when you and Charlie tried to get back at us for dying both of your hair green?" George loudly accused Bill.

"Ah, but you two deserved it," Bill shot back easily. The table was loud once again, but Harry had no wish to listen to the chatter anymore.

"You okay there, Harry?" Ginny asked, glancing over at him.

"Fine," he answered, clearing his throat and setting his fork down. "I'm stuffed is all."

"But you barely touched your food," she said. It was funny how only she noticed the smallest things about him.

"Yes I did," he lied.

"No, you didn't."

"I think I know if I ate or not, thanks," he said with a bit more bitterness than he had intended.

"Don't lie to me," she said, an unreadable look in her narrowed eyes. Then she turned away and began to talk to Hermione.

Staring at the back of her head, Harry felt ten times worse.

* * *

Harry let out a loud sigh. He had propped his head up with his arms, and the dark room was quiet aside from Ron's occasional snoring. However, it wasn't his best friend emitting loud noises that had Harry's stomach all twisted in a knot. He shifted restlessly, sweat idly trickling down his cheek. Even though night had fallen, the heat was relentless. Kicking what was left of his blankets off of him, he sighed once more as he raked both of his hands through his messy black hair. 

Why did he feel bad? He had lied many times to Ginny before…right? Well, not really, but…in a sense he had. Every time he needed to speak of Hermione and Ron alone, they had excluded her. Whenever they disappeared somewhere, she would know that whatever excuses or fibs they gave later were not true. This thought had never occurred to him and now he couldn't stop tossing and turning — both mentally and physically.

He flipped around and shoved his face into his pillow, taking a deep breath. It smelled like soap…but it didn't comfort him one bit. Since when had he wanted to comfort himself with a smell?

_Flowers would be nice…_the same small voice he had heard earlier whispered in his head.

Shoving these thoughts and himself off his bed, he groaned and rubbed the back of his neck. He stared down at his dark green boxers blankly. Really…how many times had he lied to her? And left her out? How many times had the three of them — Hermione, Ron, and himself — walked by her in the hallways of Hogwarts, too busy in their own little world to care about the quiet little redhead? How many times had he easily dismissed her or forgot her in his mind? A wave of guilt crashed down on him, and he unconsciously squeezed his gray T-shirt into a ball right over his heart. He suddenly felt nauseous. Last year…he even forgot that Voldemort had possessed her…and all he could think about was how he might have been possessed. How could she forgive him for that? How could she still want to be friends with him?

Harry quietly walked over to the open window, where a little warm breeze was flowing through. What would he do if she didn't want to be friends with him anymore? He didn't want to just let it happen, but he didn't want to force her into anything either. So then he would be stuck once again between the fighting Ron and Hermione… He would spend nights playing chess not with Ginny, but with Ron, who he didn't stand a chance against. He would no longer fall asleep on the couch with her comforting presence beside him. He would never doze off, listening to her soothing voice.

His stomach abruptly emitted such a loud growl that it shocked him. He felt his cheeks burn, even though no one else had heard the noise. Then he let out a shaky laugh while pushing away a stray lock of hair from his flushed cheeks.

"I can't believe it," he mumbled to himself. He was so troubled and upset, but he was still hungry. He had not, in fact, eaten much at dinner.

Grudgingly, he trudged down the stairs in the dark as he pulled on his robe. For a moment, he paused in front of Ginny's room. Slowly, not quite sure what he was doing, he traced his fingertips against the cool, yet warm wood. She was sleeping behind this door, surely… He could see her now, her smooth cheek pressed against her pillow, her scarlet tresses surrounding her like a halo… He had the sudden urge to open the door and really see this scene, but he resisted. She was sleeping…he didn't want to bother her… Besides, what would he say to her? "Hello, I just thought I'd stalk you in the middle of the night?"

Even more reluctant than before, he forced his legs to move down the rest of the stairs. Mending things would have to wait until the morning, apparently. He felt a jolt of surprise to see light glowing from the lower opening of the kitchen door. That was strange…who could be up at this hour? Hesitating and listening for the sound of voices, he gently opened the door.

Harry stopped in his tracks, took off his glasses and rubbed them clean, and placed them onto the bridge of his nose once again. But the sight before him didn't change. Indeed, Ginny Weasley remained seated on the kitchen table, her head buried in her arms on the table. His heart skipped a beat as he struggled to walk toward her. She was sleeping, he realized as he gazed at her serene face. Her eyes were closed, her long eyelashes fanning over her pale skin; her breathing came in slow and steady breaths with her shoulders rising and lowering ever so slightly.

Flowers, he idly thought. Ginny was like flowers. Flowers in the cool rain that washed away all impurities. Even when the rain beat hard on her, she remained unharmed, standing tall and blooming despite all odds.

Harry didn't know what he was doing, but he slowly reached out and smoothed away a soft lock of hair on her brow. If only he could lean over…and…

"_**BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP!**_"

He instantly jumped away, his heart ramming against his chest. Had he done something terribly wrong? Was the Burrow going to spontaneously combust because he had touched Ginny?

Her eyelashes fluttered open. Her brown eyes stared at him, dazed and confused momentarily. Then she croaked, "Harry?"

"G-Ginny, I swear I didn't mean to do anything! I don't k-know what's happening! I just came down here and then suddenly there's this beeping!" Harry stammered quickly, his face flushed a guilty red.

Now hearing the incessant racket, she rose to her feet, and Harry watched numbly as she opened the oven, causing the noise to stop. She turned, carrying a tray in her gloved hands. A sudden strong waft of molasses caused Harry's stomach to growl greedily once more. He quickly covered his abdomen in embarrassment, but Ginny simply laughed lightly.

"Treacle tarts?" he whispered incredulously, his mouth already watering.

"I thought you might be hungry later so I decided to bake you some," she said, her eyes on the sweet pastries. "They are your favorite, right?"

"Yeah…" Harry said, not believing that she knew that, or that she was talking to him at all.

"Good…at least I know one or two things about you…" she said softly to herself.

His green eyes darted to her worriedly. "Ginny….you _do _know me. You might be…one of the few persons who actually do. You know I'm not anything people have made me up to be from fairy tales or textbooks or newspapers… You know I'm just…just…"

"Harry," she finished for him quietly.

"E-Exactly," he licked his lips nervously.

She seemed to take in these words as she watched him, but it wasn't a look of anger or bitterness. It was almost as if she were deciding whether or not he really meant those words. And oddly enough, he really did.

Under her gaze, he had to clear his suddenly dry throat before he could speak again. "Are you…mad at me?"

Ginny paused for a moment before she shook her head. "No. I don't want to force anything out of you, Harry. There are some things that you…" She trailed off before looking up. Her brown eyes locking with his and his breath caught in his throat as a beautiful smile blossomed on her lips. "If you don't want to tell me something…well, I'll just have to wait until you want to. I'll wait for you, Harry."

A feeling overwhelmed him and suddenly he was holding onto her. His arms were around her small body, and his face was buried into her hair. He couldn't help it. He was so happy that she still wanted to be his friend…after all those years of ignoring her existence, of leaving her out…she was still willing to forgive and accept him.

"Harry…?" she whispered quietly, though she made no move to push him away.

"Oh, I'm s-sorry, I just…!" He quickly pulled away, but stopped, finding himself mesmerized by her eyes. They were searching his, looking for something. Or maybe he was searching hers…

"Yes?"

"I…I just," he began, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. Was speaking always this difficult? Surely not with Ginny… "I just want you to know how much you mean to me. I don't want anything stupid I do to ever mess up our friendship."

Something flickered in her eyes, but in a flash it was gone, and he was sure that he had imagined it.

"Yeah, Harry. Our…friendship means a lot to me too," she smiled a bit half-heartedly. "Come on, eat, before that stomach of yours starts rumbling again."

He laughed, partially from her joke, and partially out of relief. He reached up and ruffled her red hair affectionately.

"I love you, Ginny."

She looked up at him sharply as he took a bite out of a treacle tart. He relished the sweet flavor in his mouth. She quickly looked away.

"I'm going to go to bed now," Ginny said, yawning a bit. Harry nodded as she slowly crossed the room. She paused at the door and smiled softly at him. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Ginny," he said with a returning smile. As she disappeared, he sat alone at the kitchen table.

And he thought. He thought about everything and nothing for a long, long time. Mostly about why even though he kept on eating, he was left empty and unsatisfied.

* * *

Naru-chan: I hope you liked it! And...one more day, my friends. The wait is finally drawing to an end. No matter what happens, I know I'll be crying at the end. But I know that I will not stop writing H/G. I hope you'll continue to read afterwards. Thank you so much for reading my story. A review is always nice and always appreciated. 


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